The Gig
by Redderhead
Summary: John has a secret. He uses it to earn money as he has lost his job at the clinic. Sherlock follows. For once, he's wrong. I own none of the songs used. I have only borrowed the characters and I have nothing to benefit from this apart from sharing the love for these two characters. John x Sherlock. Rated HIGH very HIGH. M M M.


_Hiya! I'm back…again! I just couldn't leave this one in my head – had to let you guys experience it. I borrowed a couple of songs; 'Your Touch' from the new internet explorer advert – this story wrote itself when I listened to the music in a cinema last week! I have also used; 'maybe tonight (I'll call you)' and finally 'Everything you want'. The encore is Maroon 5's "Can't stop". Only seemed appropriate really._

_Apologies, there is a lot of lust buried in this story so if Sherlock and John 'Doing-it' isn't your thing I highly recommend you do not read it._

_**The Gig**_

"You are nervous"

It isn't a question, it's a statement of fact from the 36 year old oddity that is Sherlock Holmes. The words are spoken aloud in the quiet gloom of 221B Baker Streets' 1st floor living room and are directed at a 42 year old ex-military soldier whom currently occupies the only other armchair in the room.

John looks up sharply, as if awoken from an intense daydream.

Sherlock nods towards the Doctor's hand, the hand that was only seconds ago, drumming a repetitive military tattoo against the arm of the chair he currently sits in.

"It's very irritating" Sherlock states coldly; his steel stare as piercing as always as he watched the soldier closely. "But also fascinating" He continued, raising his hands to temple them at his chin. "Why would you be so nervous on a sunny Friday afternoon in the middle of June? Ah yes, of course" The consulting detective continues to ramble, seemingly conversing with his inner monologue. He wore a droll expression "It's mating season. You have a date."

"_Mating Season_? I do not have a –" John interjected only to be over-ruled by a mid-full-swing Deducing madman.

"This date must be important, not that receptionist from the hospital then, must be someone you've kept hidden from me, otherwise, I would know" Sherlock stated finally, smirking a little upon seeing John dissolve back into his reverie, the finger tapping returning with a vengeance.

"Don't worry, John, I'm sure she will be entirely enraptured by your _charm_" Sherlock mused sarcastically.

John's fingers remained in rhythm as his eyes slid from the window to glance for only a weary second at his impossible flatmate, before he coughed dryly, raised his head and pursed his lips. Tonight _was _a big night, but low and behold, Sherlock had been wrong about the reason why.

The lights of the nightclub were mainly a lonely blue emanating from the large stage at the foot of the room, two bars lined the rear and the side of the dance floor, there were cosy booths to the other side and a general sitting area next to the dance floor itself.

But the focus was shifted to the man now centre stage, his cream jumper illuminated in the blue shadow lighting, his jeans lost in darkness, only his white trainers a little visible, his left foot tapping softly in time with the music from the keyboard at the rear of the stage.

"I've been writing you a story,  
The headline reads "We're meant to be"  
See, I'm not one to write such fiction  
So let me be a reality  
And show you what you mean to me"

The man's voice was light, sorrowful and quiet, his focus was on a point on the floor of the stage in front of him and not the many people that had stopped their chatter to listen or dance.

"I'm thinking you and I  
should roll the dice, get lost in love forever,  
Cause I'm feeling intoxicated  
I wanna taste the air that you've been breathing"

For the higher notes, the sandy haired male had closed his eyes, his body turning only slightly the one side as he held the microphone close.

All at once, as it had been building for the two verses, strobe lights blasted into life behind the stage, the large space disappeared and re-appeared in time with the robotic music behind the singer.

The gentle foot tapping of the lead artist had become full blown kicking, his foot disappearing up behind him and pounding back to the hardwood stage in his white trainers for the main chorus.

"So hold me, and feel me  
I've been waiting for your touch  
Your beauty concerns me  
I've never loved someone so  
So hold me, and feel me,  
I've been waiting for your touch  
Your beauty concerns me  
I've never loved someone so"

Once again the lighting and music calmed, taking up the ambient atmosphere once more.

"Before I met you, my heart was heavy  
It was weighted down from all my pride  
And now I'm lost in your sweet surrender  
Confessing this love I have inside  
So now I'll show you what you mean to me"

Sherlock was captivated from his hidden spot at the rear bar's booth. The detectives' mouth was agape in awe as he watched his flatmate in completely unguarded admiration. Sherlock had waited approximately two minutes before leaving the flat after John, eager to see whom had managed to take such concentration from his live-in partner for an entire afternoon.

This was not what he had imagined.

How long had John been able to sing like that? Not only that, how had he managed to keep _this_ a secret from the great Sherlock Holmes? Sherlock snorted indignantly at himself, that thought had even sounded pompous in his own head.

Staring now, as John repeated the rather mad rhythm of the main chorus once more, Sherlock noted the stance of the doctor, almost bent double, right hand flattened over his own heart, his eyes tightly closed, that vein throbbing down the side of his neck…the whole scene was obscenely….erotic. Sherlock could see that the soldier was putting every ounce of concentration and emotion into his words and each one crept into his ears, across the back of his neck and down, straight into his cold, unused, heart.

Who was this song about? Was it John's own melody? What inspired those words? Sherlock momentarily got distracted by some women wolf whistling from the front of the dance floor, but watching John's non-existent reaction; Sherlock shook it off in favour of continuing to ogle his flatmate rather indecently.

The solitary blue lighting returned for the continued soft verses in this undulating melody. John stopped to lick his lips before continuing the song.

"I want to be the one that you run to  
I want to be the one you say you love to,  
Been waiting on forever just to hold you,  
And our love will make the headlines bleed tonight"

John let out a very undignified, but never-the-less impressive, tuneful squeal before bellowing the main chorus with more power than before;

"So hold me, and feel me,  
I've been waiting for your touch  
Your beauty consumes me  
You know I never loved someone so….  
So hold me, and feel me,  
I've been waiting for your touch  
Your beauty consumes me  
You know I never loved someone so much".

John finished the song and stepped promptly away from the microphone, clearly remembering where he was and what he had been doing. Sherlock couldn't help but join in with the roar of applause in the now quiet space. John nodded bashfully toward his audience before stepping back to remove his cream coloured jumper. Lord knows why or how he was still wearing it in this environment, but then Sherlock looked down at himself and realised he had been too distracted to remove his heavy woollen coat and gloves, or take a drink from his recently purchased glass.

Removing his outer layer as well, Sherlock wrapped two elegant hands around his glass idly and watched John with a very hawk-like eye. The soldier, now wearing a familiar white and red chequered shirt, waved behind him to the band dressed in black, obviously there was more to come.

A woman approached Sherlock's booth and it didn't take the usual timed glance to tell that she was in want of a chat-up. Sherlock, eager to spare her the time and his effort waited until she was within earshot before calmly and collectively announcing;

"Gay"

She turned on her heel and walked briskly away, desired effect achieved, Sherlock smirked, taking a sip from his cold drink.

John licked his top lip nervously as he did a quick scan of the dark dance floor, he was terrified, he was only here because he had lost his job at the clinic. He needed the money, and his boss had told him he was good. He used to sing for the troops in Afghanistan, but that was different, that was a laugh, that was for everyone's' morale, not simply for people to actually enjoy. He moved off stage to take a sip of his free J20 before wiping his mouth and approaching the microphone once more.

His audience seemed good tonight, just as well for his first gig, although, it was just as normal for the clientele to be fully inebriated by this time of night too.

Time for the next song, the music started up behind him and the doctor grasped the microphone stand in two strong hands.

"Somewhere there's speaking  
It's already coming in  
Oh and it's rising at the back of your mind  
You never could get it  
Unless you were fed it  
Now you're here and you don't know why  
But under skinned knees and the skidmarks  
Past the places that you used to learn  
You howl and listen  
Listen and wait for the  
Echoes of angels who won't return"

John closed his eyes as he sang, it was better for him to fully express his songs meanings. If anyone knew the doctor well, it did not take a genius to know exactly what each and every one of his songs were about. John hoped Lestrade and Harry were not in the audience.

"He's everything you want  
He's everything you need  
He's everything inside of you  
That you wish you could be  
He says all the right things  
At exactly the right time  
But he means nothing to you and you don't know why"

Something about these lyrics disturbed the hidden consulting detective, the way in which they were sung too put him at unease.

"You're waiting for someone  
to put you together  
You're waiting for someone to push you away  
There's always another wound to discover" – Sherlock noted that John had briefly touched his own shoulder at this part. The song was obviously his own, hidden truth in the riddle of lyrics.  
"There's always something more you wish he'd say"

Sherlock continued to listen to the song, moving slightly, mirroring his friend's movements without seemingly being aware. It wasn't until the last two verses, that Sherlock's machine-like mind clicked into a holding place, the revelation hitting him square in the face. His heart leapt, seemed to swell uncomfortably as he lifted his own hands to cover his mouth and chin in wonderment.

"He's everything you want  
He's everything you need  
He's everything inside of you  
That you wish you could be  
He says all the right things  
At exactly the right time  
But he means nothing to you and you don't know why"

Immediately after the usual chorus, John took the microphone from the stand aggressively and came to the very front of the stage, every word bellowed with force, his eyes were screwed tightly closed, his stance once more bent almost double, his voice coming from deep down within him.

"I am everything you want  
I am everything you need  
I am everything inside of you  
That you wish you could be  
I say all the right things  
At exactly the right time  
But I mean nothing to you and I don't know why"

Sherlock melted into the booth's cushions in realisation. His mouth whispered without his consent. "Oh but you do, John".

There wasn't too much of a gap between this song and the next, John took another quick sip from his drink and wiped at his face with a towel that had been provided for him. This song was the one that took most of his concentration and effort, he was glad he had waited until now to do it.

He coughed dryly as he walked back on stage to meet his applause once more, people had now gathered at the foot of the dance floor rather than dance, they were all looking up at him expectantly, it made John laugh a little and he took to the mic;

"This one is a slow one, so grab that partner and get it all out of your systems, it is, after all, as my best friend said earlier today; 'Mating Season'." The doctor laughed as did his crowd.

Sherlock cracked a smile at that.

"Give me love like her  
Cause lately I've been waking up alone  
Pain splattered teardrops on my shirt  
Told you I'd let them go  
And that I'll fight my corner  
Maybe tonight, I'll call ya  
After my blood turns into alcohol  
No, I just wanna hold ya.

Give a little time to me or burn this out,  
We'll play hide and seek to turn this around  
All I want is the taste that your lips allow,  
My, my, my, my oh give me love  
My, my, my, my oh give me love  
My, my, my, my oh give me love  
My, my, my, my oh give me love"

Somewhere during the verses, Sherlock had donned his coat, his gloves remained stashed in the coats pockets however as the tall man's feet guided him silently and without his permission toward the stage.

This was it, the big section to finish, John took time to lick his lips as the backing singers started up their repetitive melody of "M-my my, m-my my, m-my my, give me love, lover" The sound was eerie on it's own.

John closed his eyes tightly, his hands coming up either side of the microphone stand, his fists clenched. He hit the high E solidly and clearly, his "oooh-ooohing" hitting the correct notes square on, the hair on the back of his own neck and arms raised in goosebumps as the performance was strong and powerful as had been designed to be.

Just to spice things up a bit, John sang over the backing rhythm, throwing the desperation he had felt for months now into his song. "Give me love!" He thought about all the times Sherlock had walked away from him without a word. "Give me love!" He thought about all the times Sherlock had said hurtful things to him, _had_ hurt him.  
"Love me!" He thought about the times that all he had wanted to do was grasp the front of that ridiculous man's sharp clothing and force him close.  
"Love me!" He cried in desperation "Give me love!" He thought about at long last, kissing the detective that he had such strong, hidden feelings for as he calmed the song down, the backing singers faded out and John finished with a gentle "Give me love" before the lights turned off.

John wiped surreptitiously at his eyes to hide the fact that a tear had escaped in amidst the passion of the song. The crowd around that had indeed been dancing stood still to clap and cheer as John stood back once more and smiled tightly, that was until his roving eyes caught sight of Sherlock Holmes standing right in front of him, the stage only coming up to the taller man's chest as he leaned against it from the dance floor. John froze as his eyes locked onto the cold greys of his flatmate. How much had he heard?

"Another!" Cried someone in the audience. This was followed by numerous other shouts of encouragement and demands. John knew this was going to happen if it went well, and somewhere underneath his shock, he was glad, he hadn't lost his job. He may, however, have managed to lose a flatmate, an amazing, beautiful and mad flatmate. John might have tried to convince himself that Sherlock would not make a connection to the songs and himself, but this was _Sherlock Holmes_ the man that could read you in seconds. He knew.

"I believe we all want another song, John" Sherlock annunciated clearly in his soothing baritone voice. John stared at Sherlock for a long while, trying to figure him out. Eventually, Sherlock nodded encouragingly toward the doctor in acknowledgment before he moved toward the bar at the side of the room. John shivered, Sherlock had heard him sing. Sherlock knew the songs were about them. Sherlock seemed to enjoy them if he was asking for more. But could John sing, knowing he was there?

A shadow appeared on stage beside him, John felt a hand grasp at his shirt, in a flash the doctor was man-handled to come face-to-face with the younger man whom he shared rooms, a job and a deep friendship with. Without a word, Sherlock's lips met John's to the audiences' audible gasps.

John, shaken to the core, grasped Sherlock's coat tightly to keep himself upright. Sherlock was inexperienced as he tried to kiss John intimately, John smiled as he closed his eyes, gaining his own balance before taking over the kiss and creating a passionate bubble around them. The girls in the audience were now letting heart-felt "Awe"s out as they watched the scene on stage.

Breaking away from each other, Sherlock seemingly flustered, pulled his clothes straight and ran a hand through his hair. "That should…er….clear things up a bit. Please. Sing." Sherlock said awkwardly before turning heel and walking from the stage into the curtains and down onto the dance floor once more.

John wobbled a little as he gaped after the man before looking back to the microphone with a dazed, yet smug, smile.

"Ok, ok, one more" He said, now more relaxed than he had been in days.

The crowd cheered and moved to the dance floor once more. The lights dimmed;

"All alone in my room, think of you at a rate that is truly alarming  
I keep looping my memories of you in my head, I pretend that you want me  
And I fall asleep and dream of alternate realities  
And I put myself at ease by pretending that he does love me"

John catches Sherlock's eye before he sings the chorus and his smile brightens up the entire room as he sings.

"And I can't stop thinking about you  
And I can't stop thinking about you"

Sherlock smiled at these lyrics, it was all so obvious now, he had been so obtuse and idiotic. But in the end, it was simple. He needed John, and John needed him. The sexual part would have to wait for now, however, as Sherlock needed to overcome the teachings he had taken from Mycroft during his upbringing. He wasn't quite ready yet, or so he thought, to face those truths.

"Can't believe he could think I would just follow him everywhere he goes,  
I just wrestle with you in my dreams and wake up making love to a pillow" Sherlock stilled as these lyrics reached his brain. He looked up at the doctor, his eyes closed, that vein standing strong and proud down the side of his neck, and oh god did he look stunning.

Sherlock coughed a little and tried to cover his trousers with his coat. Perhaps he was ready for that stage of a relationship after all.

When John had finished up and helped pack the band away, he collected his pay and began to search for Sherlock. After a half hour of fruitless hunting, John text him;

_Are you still here? J_

He didn't have long to wait before an immediate reply.

_No, Baker Street. Come at once if convenient. SH_

A shiver ran up John's spine as he read and re-read the words, walking toward the exit in haste to hail down a cab.

Sherlock was nowhere to be found in the living room and when John brushed his teeth he glanced through Sherlock's open bedroom door. That too, was empty. Sighing heavily, disappointed and drained, the doctor mounted the stairs to his own little room alone.

However, when the door to his own bedroom was open, not everything was as it seemed. John's eyes greedily absorbed the long and sculpted planes of Sherlock's bare skin as the ever dramatic consulting detective took up residence, naked, in the soldiers' bed. For someone's' modesty, a corner of the bed sheet was artfully arranged over Sherlock's most unused area, but John was sure it wasn't for Sherlock's' benefit.

The room was heavy with the scent of lust as John did not hesitate to remove his clothing; he strode across the short space between them in less than three steps.

"Do. You" John said through gritted teeth, his eyes smouldering with passion as he ripped away his belt. "Have. Any idea. How. Much. I have wanted you." John finished, finally almost tearing his boxers in order to rid himself of them.

The question was rhetorical. Sherlock knew and John knew that Sherlock knew. John mounted Sherlock without preamble, the two bodies coming into contact was almost too much to bear.

"I have my deductions" Sherlock growled as he watched John with something akin to hunger.

John leaned down the remaining inch to kiss Sherlock firmly, his confidence had sky-rocketed since that moment on stage when all of his dreams came true at once.

"Wait" Sherlock panted as he broke the kiss and stared at the doctor. John pulled back, a look of concern on his face.

"Sherlock, have you ever done this before?" John asked in sudden worry.

"No, but that isn't why I stopped" Sherlock smirked, he leaned across to the bedside and lifted his phone, he placed in into the ipod dock that John hadn't noticed had been brought into his room specially. Sherlock hit play on his phone before looking up at John once more with desire on his features.

"You recorded me?" John whispered as his own tones entered the air.

"Too good an opportunity to miss" Sherlock murmured as his hands reached up to curl around the back of John's arms and cover his shoulder blades, bringing the soldier down once more to him.

"You sod" John murmured against the consulting detectives' skin.

_So hold me and feel me,  
I've been waiting for your touch_

John kissed Sherlock once more, opening his mouth to him as his hands moved up his chest to cup that strong jaw, his thumbs tracing lines of their own against soft and untouched skin.

_Your beauty concerns me  
You know I never loved someone so…._

"John" Sherlock gasped as John relented his kiss, leaning slightly back to place chaste kisses against that magnificent mouth.

"I love you, Sherlock" John breathed as the music picked up beside them. Sherlock stared up at John, his eyes seeming to bubble and boil with unspoken things, John understood that it may be a while before Sherlock could express as a normal person could, however, that was something he was so attracted to in the first place. "I don't ever want you to change" The doctor whispered, running his index fingers down the younger mans' cheekbones.

It was Sherlock this time to initiate a kiss, a fierce and bruising force as he lifted his head and neck from the pillow to reach his John. John's eyes closed and his brow furrowed with concentration. He needed this to go well, he needed this in general. Sherlock's hands explored new skin down John's back and sides, the doctor could swear the detectives' hands were on fire with the amount of heat they transferred to his skin.

The chorus kicked in beside them once more and seemed to intensify their actions further.

_So hold me, and feel me,  
I've been waiting for your touch  
Your beauty consumes me  
You know I never loved someone so much_

John managed to turn them over on the small bed so that Sherlock covered every inch of him and he groaned at the contact. Sherlock leaned up on one arm and examined his prey in close range. Eventually, he smiled at what he found written upon his lovers' face and reached for the bed side drawer.

Lube and condom located, Sherlock looked anxiously down at the doctor.

"Give me that, and you deal with that" John smiled warmly, he reached as calmly as he could for the condom wrapper even though every ounce of him felt like a teenager once again.

Sherlock sat back on his heels and watched, unopened lube in his hand, for John's signal. To the detectives' surprise, John ripped the wrapper open with his teeth before expertly rolling the rubber onto Sherlock.

"But I thought –" Sherlock gasped with a raised eyebrow.

"Am I the only one to keep surprising you?" John said quietly with a grin as he looked up at the detective wriggling his hips suggestively.

Sherlock lost composure, he dived down to wrap himself around the doctor possessively, kissing every inch he could reach.

"Sherlock, god, get in, now" John grunted as his hips lunged upward, his sensitive skin searching for friction.

Sherlock, forgetting the lube, spat on his hand rather delicately and reached down to stretch John out. The action alone made the soldier exhale a muffled mewl in pleasure before he felt the odd sensation of something travelling _up _where it should be going _down._

_He's everything you want  
He's everything you need  
He's everything inside of you  
That you wish you could be  
He says all the right things  
At exactly the right time  
But he means nothing to you and you don't know why_

The two men had become one by the end of the chorus of John's second song. Their faces were lined with sweat and red from their frantic activity. Their eyes locked onto one another as they rocked frantically.

"How. Could. You. Think. You. Could. Mean. Nothing to me?" Sherlock panted between pulling and pushing from and into John. Miraculous, marvellous, warm, tight, sweet John.

John moaned and arched his back, his hands holding his legs up high as he watched his god-like flatmate take him.

"How" Sherlock groaned in pleasure as he lowered his forehead to the sweat glistening nook of John's neck.

"Sherlock" John breathed as this new angle reached a place that had never been breached by the soldier.

"Oh Sherlock" John moaned in ecstasy.

"Louder, John, louder" Sherlock ordered, only just lifting his head enough to see the doctor come apart at the seams.

"Sherlock!" John cried out, his eyes wide as Sherlock's right hand took control of his abandoned need.

"Louder, John. Let them know. Let everyone know what I'm doing to you" Sherlock husked, the veins in his neck visible from his efforts to keep pounding into John and rubbing him in rhythm.

"Oh, God, Sher-" John moaned, his mouth open, whites of his eyes were now visible as the dark blue orbs disappeared backward in sheer bliss.

"John!" Sherlock cried, his vision exploding into white blots as he emptied 36 years worth of load into one John Watson.

_My, my, my, my oh give me love  
My, my, my, my oh give me love  
My, my, my, my oh give me love  
My, my, my, my oh give me love_

"I can't believe what just happened" John mumbled into the wet curls of his flatmate.

"I blame you" Sherlock mumbled in reply.

John laughed. "Oh you do, do you?" He asked teasingly.

"You've obviously killed some of my brain cells with this….act" Sherlock slurred, his eyes unfocused as they stared at the phone in the dock.

"Not such a bad thing" John smiled lazily.

"We need to get you some earplugs" Sherlock mused tiredly.

John's brow furrowed in confusion before he pulled away and lifted Sherlock's chin toward him. "What now?" He asked.

"That music was extremely loud, John. I don't want you getting tinnitus" Sherlock explained drolly.

John let out an undignified snort of laughter before composing himself for all of one second and then dissolving into giggles.

"What?" Sherlock asked, put out by the doctors' behaviour.

"You have seen me singing, the most embarrassing act I have ever done, it leads to this-us, but you want me to continue to do it?" John asked, calming from his giggles.

"Of course. I have never heard something so beautiful in all my life" Sherlock said seriously, watching John closely from his position on top of him.

John swallowed harshly and his eyes roamed from Sherlock's eyes to his lips in quick succession.

"I want to hear it, always" Sherlock finished quietly.

John smiled, small at first, but it grew with the sounds now coming from the phone in the dock.

"I am good, aren't I?" John asked with a giggle listening to his high E from before.

"My conductor of light" Sherlock said with a smile before leaning down and claiming the doctor's lips once more in a gentle, post-orgasm kiss.

The End.


End file.
